


Blood Angel

by TheYoungWolf22



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Healing, Hetalia, Love, Other, Redemption, Torture, Violence, prucan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYoungWolf22/pseuds/TheYoungWolf22
Summary: Prussia finds himself in Ivans torture chamber, he's broken and bleeding and wants to die but of course what fun would that be to the Russian?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before you venture further I feel I should warn you, this chapter contains a lot of extremely graphic violence so if you have a weak stomach or dislike reading about violence I would stop right now because this story isn't for you.

Prussia laid broken and bloodied on the floor of his cell, he was fading in and out of consciousness and wondered if perhaps his pain would end soon, perhaps Russia would finally go too far and end his miserable life.

He already taken most of his sight when he slowly removed his right eye days ago, it was painful and it nearly knocked him unconscious but Russia noticed him starting to fade and ran smelling salts under his nose and snapped him back to his horrific reality. 

"I'm having far to much fun to let you sleep yet" he had told him, a sick smile twisting up his features before he slowly dragged the scalpel along Prussia's collarbone.

Prussia slowly brought his hand to his face reflexively, cringing as his finger tips touched the dried blood that was caked thickly over the right side of his face.

"I'm going to miss my eye the most I think, Mattie always said I had beautiful eyes..they're ruined now" he thought, tears welling and slipping down his skin.

The summer weeds had begun growing around the bars that sat securely over the tiny window in his cell, slowly choking out the only remnants of light he had seen since his capture and making it increasingly difficult to keep track of the days.

Closing his eyes Prussia allowed his mind to wander, a few pleasant memories of Mattie slipped into view as he worked on blocking out all the sounds that echoed around him.

The first memory was a simple one, he and Mattie camping.

The summer sun was so warm that day that is he concentrated he could almost feel it on his face again, Mattie was laughing happily at Kumajirou who had been rolling in the mud and was beyond filthy.

"I met Gilbird on that trip" he thought, the memory taking over without permission.

The second day of the camping trip Prussia heard something fall behind him, at first he thought Mattie was back with the firewood but when that wasn't the case he went to investigate the noise and that's when he saw him; a little yellow bird.

The small bird flapped and squirmed when he picked him up but it was quickly obvious that he had fallen because he had an injured wing, he looked into his small black eyes and felt the need to care for him. 

"I'll just keep him until he's well enough to fly" he thought, looking down at the little creature.

Of course it didn't turn out that way but Gilbert loved that little bird with all his heart.

"I hope Mattie is taking proper care of him" he murmured softly to no one.

The next memory to intrude was another one with Mattie, most of his pleasant memories included him.

Matthew showed up on his doorstep with a bottle of maple syrup, the perpetually happy canadian had no idea it was April fools day and he had spent the entire day suspicious of the gift before Mattie finally made a batch of pancakes and poured the sticky sweet liquid over them. That was the first time he tried maple syrup, it was probably the most delicious thing to pass his lips and he'd always be grateful to Mat for introducing him to it.

The sound of heavy footsteps told him Ivan would be dragging him from his dank little cell any moment and the torture would start all over again.

Gilbert instinctively pushed himself against the wall, curling his knees against his chest in an attempt to be as small as possible in a vein hope Ivan would leave him be.

"Tsk tsk Gil, cowering in the corner are we" Ivan mocked

Gilbert stayed perfectly silent, unwilling or maybe unable to respond to the large Russian that was now standing over him.

Ivan bent forward and clutched Gilbert's long dirty hair, using it to hoist him in the air like a child's doll and holding him up to admire his handy work.

"It would seem your eye is healing. Most impressive" he grinned, carefully prodding the scabbed over wound to check for infection.

Gilbert glared daggers with his good eye, his gut twisting at the look of pure, twisted joy on his broad pale face.

"Come now, I'll get a scream out of you yet" he promised with a sickening laugh before dragging the broken man out of his cell.

The torture room was large, there was a chair equipped with thick leather restraints and a drain for blood in the centre of it, on the left hand side was a long metal table covered in scalpels, bone saws and dozens of other tools of Ivan's trade and shackles, chains and extra restraints hung menacingly on the other side of the dark room.

"What shall we do today?" Ivan asked mockingly, dangling Gilbert in the air by his hair.

Russia moved swiftly through the space and slammed the broken albino in the chair, quickly strapping his arms and legs tightly to the rough wood.

"Hmm let's start by getting rid of this" he scoffed, grabbing a handful of dirty tunic and ripping it off the shrunken body in a fluid motion.

Ivan took a step back to take in the image in front of him; a once strong man bound against his will, bruised, cut and maimed beyond what time or medical intervention could heal and completely at the mercy of his whims. 

"The perfect toy" he thought, his dick twitching as his eyes fell between the legs of the naked albino.

"I have a new toy for us to try today" he commented, stoking up the fire in the corner.

Gilbert swallowed hard at the words, nervous about what was coming and painfully aware of how exposed his body was at that moment.

"This is called a lead sprinkler" he informed him, holding up a long metal object with a sphere on the end of it.

Gil's face contorted slightly at the sight of it much to Ivan's pleasure, causing a sadistic grin to spread slowly across his face.

"My my, such a reaction and we haven't even gotten to the fun part yet" he cackled, quickly turning the sphere and pulling it in half.

The strong stench of hot tar wafted through the room and burnt the inside of Gilbert's nostrils with every breath, causing his empty stomach to turn and lurch in protest.

"I doubt you've seen this particular toy before, allow me to demonstrate how it works" he chuckled before quickly flicking his wrist, sending droplets of scolding hot tar to rain down on the small albinos chest.

Gilbert arched involuntary in his seat, straining against the restraints as his nearly translucent skin seared and blistered everywhere the droplets hit.

"I knew would have fun with this toy!" The large Russian laughed, his eyes wide and wild.

In that moment an unmistakable bulge pushed the front of the Russians pants outward as the material strained against his size, revealing the true perverted pleasure he was getting from causing another man pain.

Ivan held the sprinkler over Prussia's chest and watched as the molten liquid slowly drizzled onto his pale skin, nearly throbbing as the man screamed against the pain of his flesh cracking and blistering against the extreme heat.

"That's what I like to hear" he purred, watching the look of horror settle on his face.

"Why don't you just kill me!" Gilbert finally snapped, unable or unwilling to hold his tongue any longer.

"Where's the fun in that? If you die..well you can't scream or beg for mercy from the grave now can you?" He replied truthfully, his voice breathy.

"I will NEVER beg!" He shouted, his own voice sounding foreign to him as it left his lips and echoed through the chamber around them.

Ivan stared wide eyed at him for a moment, truly impressed at the amount of strength the Prussian clearly still had.

"Oh this is going to be fun" he thought darkly, several erratic breathes slipping through his lips as his dick jumped to full attention and strained painful against the crotch of his pants.

"I think it's time for you to meet a friend of mine" he commented raggedly.

Gilbert watched the large Russian closely as he moved to the corner of the room and pulled something from a black duffle bag on the floor.

"Meet my friend, the magical pipe of pain" he announced, swinging the polished length of pipe with a flourish, a wide twisted grin spreading across his wide face. 

Before Gilbert could process the words he felt the impact of the pipe against his right leg, followed by a sickening crunch and a shape pain that caused a scream to escape through his tightly pressed lips.

"I think we're going to have fun with my friend, don't you?" He commented before bring it down full force on Prussia's left leg this time, soaking up the crunch of breaking bones and the sharp screams that filled the room like a symphony of pain with every blow.

It was artwork to Ivan, the way the pipe sang as it sailed through the air, the dull thud when it makes contact with a body part, the crunch of breaking bones and screams that followed. Even the scents of blood, sweat and piss were like the bouquet of a finely aged wine. 

The whole thing made his body sing with pleasure, his cock throbbing as it rubbed against the rough material of his trousers. On a good day it was common for him to reach climax while his victims screamed, drowning out his own guttural moans.

The pipe sang as it sailed through the air and a wet thud as it made contact with Gilbert's already mangled legs, sending a spray of blood across the Russians wide pale face.

A sharp inhale twisted his features and a low moan rippled through his lips before he brought the pipe down again, this time across the smaller mans shins, the bones splintering on impact as a blood curdling scream filled the chamber around them both.

Gilbert did the only thing he could at that moment, he screamed. He screamed as the cruel bastard swung that polished weapon into his body and crushed his bones, he screamed as he watched his blood begin to pool on the floor beneath what used to be his feet. He screamed at the thought of Mattie seeing him after all of this, seeing him as little more than a broken lump of flesh with one violet eye peering at him, reflecting the horrors of what he was suffering at this moment.

"No.. Mattie won't see this.. I.. I can't allow that" he thought, making a decision.

"H-hey you fat, ugly, snow covered bastard! Is that all you got?!" He screeched through gritted teeth.

Ivan towered over Gilbert, a wide twisted grin taking over his blood covered face as he brought the pipe down once more, this time aiming for the smaller mans head.

A deep guttural moan poured through his lips as the pipe cracked against Gilbert's head, a deep gash left in its wake and a sudden gush of hot, sticky liquid shooting against the front of his trousers and dripping down his legs as he reached climax at the sight of his newest masterpiece.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert slowly woke to a blinding white light and a warm, familiar voice calling his name.

“Come on son, wake up” The soft voice called again.

“F-Fitz? Is it really you?” He cried, squinting against the light.

“Of course it's me, who else would it be?” He chuckled.

“So this is death” he thought abstinently, pulling himself to his feet.

“So the Russian actually killed me” he commented as he walked alongside old man Fritz.

The elderly man just smiled sympathetically at him for a long moment before opening his mouth the speak again.

“You're a country son, as long as your people still live you can't die” he replied kindly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I don't understand, if I'm not dead then how is it I'm walking and talking with you right now?” He questioned, a cold chill crawling over his skin.

“You're unconscious, if you were a normal person you would be dead but even after everything your body is healing. At this very moment your brain is knitting itself back together and this whole thing is a pleasant side-effect of being in limbo, dead but not dead” he explained.

“So what you're saying is I'm brain damaged?” He asked, laughing at the entire situation.

“We don't have much time, once your brain is healed all of this will disappear and you'll wake up again” he informed the young albino.

Gilbert cringed at the thought, the very idea of waking up in that cell turned his stomach and made his heart race in anxiety.

“I know you don't want to go back, if I had my way about it I would keep you here with me and you'd never feel pain again but your people and your brother need you” Fritz sympathized.

“That's a laugh, West has never needed me, if anything I'm a hindrance to him” he scoffed, looking down at his boots as he spoke.

Gilbert looked so small in that moment, kicking at the ground like a scolded child as he spoke about his big brother he was certain never wanted him.

“Ludwig loves you Gilbert, he always has. In fact he's searching for you right now, tearing the world apart to find his big brother” he informed him softly.

Before he could respond the pungent scent of blood and excrement suddenly hit his nose, his clothes fell away and he watched in horror as his flesh bubbled, his vision slipped away on one side and legs crunched sickeningly beneath him dropping him to the ground.

The bright light vanished, quickly replaced by a damp darkness as his body filled with unimaginable pain and a scream he didn't recognize as his own echoed around him when he involuntarily shifted his weight.

“Ah you're awake!” The Russian nearly purred, appearing from somewhere out of view from the cell.

“I wasn't expecting music this early in the day but it's delightful nonetheless” he grinned, pulling a thick brass key from his pocket and sliding it into the lock of the cell.

Gilbert wanted to cower away from the Russians touch but his mangled legs wouldn't allow it, sending searing pains through his entire body with every flinch.

“Tsk tsk, still trying to resist me? My brother you can't escape me, don't you know that yet?” He questioned, a disturbingly pleasant look etched on his broad face as he knelt beside him.

“Are you ready to beg yet? Plead for your release perhaps?” He asked almost mockingly.

“Never!” He sneered, spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva into Ivan's face.

The Russian reeled back, dragging a gloved hand over his face to wipe away the offending fluid before turning his attention back to Gilbert.

“Still some fight left in you I see” he growled, kneeling next to Gilbert again and placing his lips against his ear.

“Let's play” he whispered sadistically.

A split second later Ivan was on his feet, his hand wrapped around the albinos face as he lifted him off the ground, enjoying the wet sounds emanating from the broken man's lips as his mangled limbs hung in unnatural angles beneath him, the bones jutting through his flesh in spots.

“I have something special planned for today” he purred, dragging the broken albino behind him as he moved quickly towards the torture chamber.

The Albino came to him in a dream the night before, his pale creamy skin blotched with blue/green bruises, burns and gashes, his legs broken and dangling in unnaturally. It was nearly perfect, the canvas was nearly filled but there was something missing, one part of him that was virtually untouched, saved for the perfect finish. His back.

When Ivan came out of that dream he knew exactly what he needed to do to finish his masterpiece.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a lot more violent, read at your own risk :)

Ivan pulled the albino into the torture chamber, kicking the heavy metal door closed behind them before tossing the broken man towards the wall, grinning at the crunch that filled the room as his face made contact with the rough stones.

“You're going to be spectacular” he purred, pulling a set of shackles down from the wall and attaching them around the albinos wrists.

Ivan gripped the chains of the shackles and yarded on them, forcing Gilbert's arms to spread wide above his drooping head, a satisfying scream rippling through his lips as his mangled legs folded beneath him.

“Perfect” he breathed, taking in the sight infront of him.

The albinos pale flesh almost seemed to glow under the dim lights in the torture chamber, the wide stretch of untouched skin begging to be marked and molded by the Russians expert hands.

“Let's get started” he murmured, a grin spreading across his wide face.

Ivan stepped closer to the naked man and ran his bare hands over the silky smooth canvas, making mental notes of every curve and ripple of his flesh, counting the ribs that were clearly visible through his nearly transparent skin as a surge of pleasure rushed through him at the thought of what was coming next.

Gilbert shuddered at the sudden gentle caress, tingles going up his spine at the delicate touch against his skin.

Ivan carefully picked up each scalpel, tracing his fingers along the icy metal of each one before selecting the perfect artistic tool to use on his masterpiece.

Gilbert swallowed hard at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind him, the uncertainty of what the Russian was planning causing his heart to race.

The Russian knelt behind the albino and sunk the blade into his pale flesh, slowly bringing it down each side of his spine, looping up at the small of his back and stopping at the base of his ribs, creating two large semi-circles. 

A small gasp hissed between his teeth as the blood started pouring down the naked man's back and pooled on the ground beneath him.

“Cutting through skin is easy, it's thin, puts up very little resistance..” He started, sliding the blade just beneath the surface.

Ivan worked on the right side of the albinos back first; moving the blade carefully to ensure he didn't nick the muscles as he tore a large C shaped section of skin free from his body, pulling it aside and allowing it to lay loosely over the right side of his rib cage, skin against skin. 

Gilbert screamed helplessly as the Russian repeated the process, leaving his severed skin laying against his ribs on either side like bloodied butterfly wings.

“You're doing beautifully, my other works of art all died long before this point” he almost purred, dragging a finger over the ripples of the exposed muscles and licking the fresh blood from the tip.

Ivan shuddered as the metallic liquid spread across his tongue and coated his throat, his body pulsing at the taste as he leaned back on his heels and took a long, shaky breath.

The warm liquid soaked through the thin material of Ivans pants, causing them to stick uncomfortably against his skin as he moved across the room and selected a small axe from his collection.

“The muscles and bone however..” He continued, his voice calm and level as he knelt behind the smaller man again.

The Russian took a deep breath and brought the axe down against the albinos ribs, the blade shattered the bone jaggedly as it hit, detaching the first several from his spinal column.

There were no screams left to give, Gilbert's voice was hoarse and quiet as he gasped helplessly against the blows that shook his whole body, the pain all blending together and covering him in a blanket of numbness as the blood loss began took its toll.

“Removing those is a little more of a challenge” he smirked, bringing the axe down again.

The Russian slipped backward into the thick pool of blood beneath him as the heavy metal door flew open with a bang and soldiers began pouring into the room around him.

“Sir! He's in here!” The men screamed urgently.

“Gilbert!” Ludwig called out, pushing his way past his men.

“I suppose you're here for the exhibit, it's not quite finished yet but I suppose it'll have to do” He sighed, getting to his feet and stepping to the side to reveal his finest piece art.

The smell hit him first, the unmistakeable stench of blood, piss and shit assaulted his nostrils with such force he wretched, the nothingness in his stomach pouring into his mouth in the form of hot bile. As hard as he tried Ludwig couldn't muffle the scream that ripped through him when he saw it; his big brother, the strongest man he knew shackled to a wall, naked as the day he was born and absolutely torn apart. The flesh had been ripped from his back and positioned like bloodied butterfly wings at his sides, several ribs had been shattered almost beyond recognition on his left side and what seemed like an impossibly wide pool of blood spread beneath him highlighting his horrifically mangled legs.

“Impressive isn't he?” He grinned, sucking the blood from his finger tips.

The usually stoic German found himself at the mercy of his emotions as he lunged across the room and brought the Russian to the ground with a single punch and dropped down on top of him.

“You bastard!” He growled bringing his fist down on the Russians wide face again and again.

“He really was the perfect canvas” he laughed before bringing his knee up into the Germans stomach and shoving him backwards.

Without another thought Ludwig pulled the combat knife from his boot and lunged it into the Russians heart, breathing heavily as the large man crumpled to the ground at his feet.

“Sir!” One of the soldiers gasped in disbelief.

“He's not dead. Immortal unfortunately” he growled in response.

Ludwig quickly went to his brothers side and knelt down beside him for a moment.

“Gilbert, you're going home now.. Let's go home” he sniffled, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.


End file.
